


Folks Vignettes (Josie and Mavis)

by Piper



Series: Folks One Shots [3]
Category: American Folklore, Original Work
Genre: American Folkore, Female Character of Color, Female Friendship, Folklore, Gen, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, POV Original Character, POV Original Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 17:12:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piper/pseuds/Piper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josie goes to collect on her favour from Mavis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Folks Vignettes (Josie and Mavis)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yabamena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yabamena/gifts), [slipsthrufingers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slipsthrufingers/gifts).



> This is so imperfect, but hey, that's the point of getting drafts out. This (or at least a scene like it) takes place in episode 3.

'Burke Cove' consisted of four brownish looking trailers, two large sheds, and an assortment of cars in various states of disrepair sitting dirt and muddy patches of grass. There were tools, empty gas tanks, crates, and any number of other things scattered around, but for all the mess the place was eerily quiet as Josie leaned her bike up against a wheel-less Mercedes and tired to decide which discoulored brown trailer was closest to green.

She was, Mavis had instructed her, to knock on the door of the green trailer. 

_Green,_ Josie thought, _is relative when you live in an old bootlegger's bog._

Her shoes squished over the ground as she started towards the door of one trailer out of the four that could be -generously- described as a shade of olive. 

Josie gave the door three sharp raps and looked around for any sign of life in the junky, wooded cove. In the ensuing empty silence it didn't take her very long to decide that there was every possibility she was going to _die_ right here -headless horsemen and axe wielding bunnymen be damned- in upstate New York's version of a Rob Zombie Appalachian horror flick. 

“And they won't even know where to start looking for the body,” she muttered.

“Sure they will,” a voice answered.

Josie promptly shrieked. (Somewhere in the woods a raptor screeched back. At least something was alive out there.)

Leaning out of the far window to Josie's left with her chin resting against her hand, Mavis Burke stared at her intently. She wrinkled her tan, freckled nose as if watching Josie coach herself down from a heart attack was that much beneath her. “They'd find your body,” she said. “Since we sure as hell wouldn't leave it here.”

“That is not--” Josie heaved a breath. “Reassuring.”

“Yeah. Well.” Mavis shrugged before shifting so that she could lean forward on her elbows. “You're late.”

“You didn't mention that you literally live in the middle of the woods on Charles Manson's ranch.” Josie straightened slightly. Mavis the seventeen year old girl with a shaggy pixie cut and freckles was much less threatening than Mavis the disembodied voice, even if Mavis-the-former had tossed her to ground like a sack of potatoes a few days before. “Your house isn't exactly down the block.”

'House' was a strong term. While Mavis technically lived within town limits, Burke Cove (a name that didn't help bolster Josie's calculations of survival) certainly didn't count as a neighborhood. Her instructions to Josie lead to a spot off the narrow two-lane county road that led into Kith Harbor, and on through the woods traveling a muddy path that wasn't at all meant for her bike. She'd walked from there, following larger tire tracks in the mud until the had forest opened up around her revealing the Burke property.

 _'Property',_ Josie thought, _is also probably a strong word._

Mavis frowned. “You walk out here?”

“Biked.”

“I thought your boyfriend had a car.”

“My who?”

“The all American wonderbread stud in that red pickup that sounds like-” Mavis paused before barking out a sound that fell firmly between a donkey's bray and a dolphin's squeak. “That.”

“You told me to come alone.” Josie wouldn't go so far as to deny that bringing Will hadn't crossed her mind, but the other girl didn't need to know that. “And Will is not my boyfriend.”

“He's not?”

“No, he's not.”

Mavis considered that for a moment and then grinned. “Interesting. Stay there.” And before Josie could say a word she'd shimmied back into the trailer and slammed the window shut in her wake. A series of footfalls and thumps made their way towards the center of the trailer, followed by the telltale sounds of deadbolts turning, tumblers falling into place, and chains sliding out of the way. The door opened wide with little fanfare, revealing Mavis and a poorly lit interior that, at least, looked cleaner and more hospitable than the land outside.

“Calm down, Holt. Remember,” Mavis stepped to the side and beckoned Josie in. “I believe I owe you a favour?”

As she walked into the trailer Josie imagined the eulogy her parents would give at her funeral. _She died stupid,_ her mother would say bluntly. _Lacking the good sense God gave her._

Granted, even if she did make it home unscathed Arthur and Rebecca would skin her alive once they found out she'd been off visiting Mavis Burke. Then they'd do it again, happily, when they realised what she'd been there _for_.

Josie looked around as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. To be fair the place could be called homey, its cramped corners working as an advantage instead of inducing claustrophobia. The small kitchen was clean but looked well used and coffee was dripping down into a pot on the burner. The dining area wasn't so much that as it appeared to be a multifunctional eating and sitting room with a few couches squeezed in around a television and a long coffee table strewn with dishes and magazines. There was a closed door at the end of the room that Josie assumed led to whatever window Mavis had greeted her from. The walls were a sallow yellow color that, like the trailer's exterior, might have been brighter once upon a time, but had little hope of recovery now. 

The door clicked shut behind her and Josie turned to see Mavis redoing several of the locks she'd only heard from the outside. Mavis looked amused. “Skittish much?”

 _How many dead bodies have **you** seen over the past week?_ But Josie smartly kept that to herself, saying instead, “The first time we met you stole my bike and gave my bruises bruises.”

“Do you always hold onto stuff like this? It's not healthy-- they say you've gotta let stuff go, y'know? For your own well being.” She reached out and patted Josie's shoulder. “You want some coffee?”

“No thanks.”

“Weird,” Mavis said, stepping over to the kitchen. “You drink it by the gallon.”

“How do you know that?”

“Just because Chapman's practically leased you that booth in the back of the diner doesn't mean you're the only one who goes in there. You and your friends are very set in your ways. Habitual. It's so... appropriately small-town of you.” She grabbed two mugs from the drying rack next to the sink and began to fill them as if Josie hadn't spoken at all. “People notice when you do the same thing over and over. Milk?”

Josie pursed her lips but spoke up before Mavis ruined a perfectly good cup of coffee. “Black, please.”

“Sugar?”

“No.”

Mavis grinned and handed over the mug. Josie had to admit, after a first cautious sip, that the drink hit the spot after her unexpected and exhausting slog through the woods. “Thanks.”

“It's rude to have someone over and not offer refreshments,” Mavis answered. “It was this or moonshine.”

“Didn't Burke Bootleggers die out with Prohibition? I thought you st-- sold cars now.”

“There's always a market for liquor so strong its fumes'll blind the family pet.”

“Do you put that slogan on the mason jars?”

“Nah, but we should, shouldn't we? Mason jars, she says...” she snickered behind her mug. “You can take a bottle with you, if you can manage on that bike, after you've told me what you want.”

The hint wasn't subtle, but it was softened with a gesture that Josie should follow Mavis to one of the seats in front of the TV. Mavis sat first and shoved a few dishes to the side so they would both have a place to set their mugs down on the table. Not that Josie was quite ready to let hers go yet. Still she sat down next to Mavis who had neatly tucked one long leg up underneath her and turned to stare directly at Josie. “You have my undivided attention.”

The full brunt of Mavis' undivided attention was unnerving, with her golden brown eyes suddenly turning serious and focusing entirely on her. “It's not that serious,” Josie said after a moment. “I need an ID.”

Mavis' nose wrinkled again. “A fake ID?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you do those. Right?”

“For a hundred bucks and a handle of Maker's Mark, sure.” Mavis leaned back, frowning slightly. “I was expecting something.... _big_.”

“Well, I don't have one hundred dollars, so this is pretty big for me. And...” She bit her lip. Explaining this had seemed a lot more simple when she'd been sitting in the back room of her father's office surrounded by documents. Her decision not to bring them seemed silly now, but something about walking into this with actual _evidence_ of the wildly illegal thing she was plotting had seemed... well, not smart. She had some common sense left, at least, even if she was still here asking for a fake ID with a dead person's social security number on it for a man who wasn't technically human, much less a tax paying citizen. 

But John Henry had saved her life and this was an easy way to get him one of his very own.

Coffee in one hand, Josie rubbed her forehead with the other. “I- I might need a social security card.”

Mavis was thoroughly unphased. “Oh?”

“The guy's dead. He's been dead for like seventy years--”

“Even better.”

“--I'm not trying to do anything, like, _evil_ with it. I just... my friend, um, he's- he wants to go to school and I just need some help creating a background for him. I figure if he's got the social security number of a guy who died before computers existed and he keeps his head down... y'know?”

“I know.” Mavis held up three fingers. “You need an ID, a social security card, and a birth certificate at least. Maybe a passport so long as he's not gonna try and leave the country on it.”

“I was just thinking the ID-- you do all that?”

“I make IDs. I know people in the city who do the other stuff.” She shrugged. “Where are you getting these numbers?”

Josie ran a hand through her hair and tried to stare down at her coffee mug in some sort of nonchalant manner. “Maybe I know people too.”

Mavis gave a whoop of a laugh. “Your daddy and your daddy's daddy and so on and so forth-- they've been doing taxes in this town for a century. I bet there's all kinds of useful information in that office. We're all in the family business, aren't we?” Her face split in a Cheshire grin and she reached forward to cup Josie's face in her hand. “You have to trust me, Holt, if you're gonna take a favour from me.”

“Again with my bruises having bruises.”

“Again with the letting things go.” Mavis was still grinning. “You're awfully wound up to be committing fraud.”

“If you were having the week I am, you'd be wound up too.”

“Two dead bodies and this entire town goes kooky.” The older girl took one last long pull from her mug then bounced up gracefully from the couch. “I can get you the ID, the card, and the birth certificate pretty easily. I'll need a picture, of course, and the social security number, but it'll just take a few days after you give it to me. The passport might take some work; we'll talk.”

Josie scrambled up. “I appreciate it.”

“He -your friend- shouldn't be trying to take out any mortgages with this stuff, you know. No racking up a hundred thousand grand in credit card debt or anything like that. This stuff only goes so far before the trail runs up cold and people start realising there's also a cold body behind it.”

“It's for a degree in engineering. He won't even have to take out loans.”

“So it's a noble fraud.”

“Yeah.” Josie nodded firmly, thinking of the last time she and John Henry had spoken. _I think you're selling yourself short, Josephine. You're worth a hell of a lot more than your bloodline._ She couldn't pay him back in full, but she could damn well get half way there. He deserved it.

“Alright. I'll call you before the weekend. You'll have to pick up, I don't leave messages,” Mavis said, glancing at the time on the kitchen stove. “And it's time for you to go. You were late.” She neatly plucked Josie's mug from her hand and walked it to the sink.

“I wasn't that late.”

“Pretty late,” she replied bluntly. “If I say I need to meet at one, I need to meet at one because visiting hours at Albion end at six and it's a three hour drive on a good day. We on the same page?”

“What's in Albion besides Almost Canada?”

“My mother.”

“Oh.” _Must be nice to know where your mom actually is._ “Got it.”

“And the prison they sent her to for identity theft.”

“Oh.” _Oh._

“Family business, remember? We Burkes offer a quality service.” Mavis faced the sink and rinsed their mugs. With her back to Josie she gestured to the locked door. “I'll be in touch. You can see yourself out.”

Summarily dismissed, Josie turned for the door.


End file.
